22 – White Lie

Once I had arrived at work and had gotten into all of my gear, Commander called me into her office. This was before our morning summary and assignment, so I figured that Commander would have some sort of special task in place for me that related to the Horsemen.

I opened the door to her office, and let myself in. “What do you need, Commander?”

She sighed, and looked up at me. “Bill Bundy apparently killed himself yesterday, according to police reports. His house was totally empty except for him. There were no maids or security, and he was found with a pistol next to him and a bullet wound in the head.”

I closed my eyes. “I see.”

“That means that his house will likely go on sale after then clean-up, and that also means that we can’t burn it, or else people will think that we murdered him before burning the house. We’re going to have to leave his home alone.” Commander turned her chair and looked away from me.

“That’s very disappointing. He would have been a good target to strike.” I kept my gaze focused on Commander, even while she didn’t.

“That’s why I called you in. I want you to go tell Famine, at the very least. She’ll make sure that the news gets pushed forward.” Shelby motioned for me to walk out of her office.

A few brief moments passed before everyone had taken their seats and Shelby began to give orders. Zoe had opted to sit next to me.

Zoe leaned toward me. “So have you told Commander the truth yet?” she whispered to me.

“No, I haven’t had the chance. Stop worrying yourself,” I replied. Zoe leaned back, but I could feel her distrust on my cheek.

Commander issued everyone go to their usual routes. We all obliged. I got into a car and, much to my disappointment, drove to Famine’s house. I needed to tell her about how Bill killed himself.

After driving a few miles, I arrived at her house. I parked the car, stepped out of the door, and knocked on Famine’s door.

She opened the door, looking rather disheveled. Something was on her mind, and my news wasn’t going to help. “What is it, Ren?”

“Bill Bundy apparently committed suicide at his home last night. We won’t be able to burn his home without people thinking his suicide was our fault.” I put out a hand, palm upwards, in consolation. It was likely a misguided gesture.

“Oh, right. He killed himself. Are you sure you didn’t just frame the murder that way?” Famine’s hair was mostly covering her eyes, but I could still see rage seeping out of them.

“Positive. What makes you think I murdered them?” I pulled my hand back to my side.

“Context. We discussed burning down his house only days ago, then suddenly he killed himself? War doesn’t believe in coincidences, and neither do I. Everything that has been happening recently is too deliberate to be a happy accident.” She changed her posture by leaning against the door frame. “On top of that, you’ve been known to murder without care of life before, and so it wouldn’t surprise me to find out you killed Bundy.”

I considered what she said. It was rather insightful. “Well, your logic is certainly sound, Famine. I’ll let you believe what you like. However, I will still deny the blame for this.”

Famine looked away from me, and upward. “Well, I’m impressed usually you wouldn’t deny your handiwork to someone who wouldn’t do anything about it anyway. How austere of you.”

I shrugged. “I can’t take credit for another’s work. That’s plagiarism, and plagiarism is just plain boring.” Famine said nothing, but kept her eyes focused on the distance. I continued. “However, plagiarism could benefit us. Do you think Death would approve of the murder?”

Hearing that, Famine stood up straight again. She brushed her hair out of her eyes. She looked at me, and then blinked a few times. “Shit. You’re right. I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Death would approve. Hell.”

I gave a slight smile. “That’s why I came. I figured that we could spin the death in our favor.”

Famine shook her head. “I hate you so much. I’m even angrier that you’re right. Hell, whatever. You want to take some tea with you before you go?”

“I don’t see why not. Although, I’ll also need a new kettle if you can spare one. I gave the previous one to a good friend; she absolutely adores tea.”

Famine shook her hand. “You already took my only spare. You’ll have to find some other means of getting one, or wait a couple of weeks for me to get another. Either way, I don’t have another.”

“Unfortunate. It can’t be helped. I suppose that means I’ll be out of your hair, unless there’s something else you might want to talk about.”

Famine shook her head again, but this time much slower than before. “I know I’m a mess, but I can sort through that without your help. The only person you should ever ask that to at the moment would be Claire. Even then, refrain.” She stepped back into her house, and shut the door without a proper farewell.

I turned and got back into the car. I still had to be on shift for a few hours. Much to my dissapointment.